Echoes of My Heart Throughout the Court

Thank you Shaq for your support.

“Kneel properly—”

The commander of the Jinyiwei kicked Su Ziguang in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel.

Another Jinyiwei swiftly stripped off his upper garments, exposing his pale chest. The onlookers couldn’t help but think of a pig—one that had been shaved clean and was now awaiting slaughter.

The old emperor, well-practiced in the motion, picked up a skinning knife.

Su Ziguang immediately burst into tears. “Your Majesty! If I’m to die, at least let me understand why!”

The tip of the knife traced across his chest, gliding over the layers of fat. Sweat mixed with grease, staining the blade yellow.

The old emperor glanced down and chuckled lightly. “Oh? You wet yourself?”

Instantly, countless eyes shifted to Su Ziguang’s crotch.

Su Ziguang didn’t even have time to take another breath before the wet patch on his pants visibly spread.

The old emperor sneered. “When the flood came, you refused to leave, causing the water to wash away the homes of countless citizens. Back then, when you did this, why didn’t you wet yourself in fear?”

[Wait, how does the emperor know he didn’t?]

[He did! Not only did he wet himself, but he also had a fever from fright that night. It took him a long time to suppress his terror.]

Ugh—

The officials of the Great Xia dynasty cast Su Ziguang looks of disgust.

So the more cowardly a man is, the bigger the crimes he commits, huh? You were so scared you wet the bed, yet you still carried out acts of selfish harm. Did it never occur to you that one day you’d be caught?

Hearing the emperor bring up the flood, Su Ziguang trembled all over. And yet, amidst his fear, there was an odd sense of relief—like the burden of uncertainty had been lifted from him. His body slumped, and he closed his eyes. “So Your Majesty truly knows everything. In that case, I have nothing more to say.”

“You have nothing to say, but I have questions.”

The old emperor looked at him. “Su Ziguang, could you possibly eat and use up all the grain from 6,000 acres of land?”

Su Ziguang let out a self-mocking laugh. “Of course not. Most of it is hoarded in warehouses. When it’s about to go stale, I sell it off. The money I make? I squander it—have you ever heard of ‘Hunyang Miehu’?”

“It’s an entire roasted lamb, stuffed with a goose inside. Once the goose absorbs the lamb’s flavor, the lamb is thrown away, and only the goose is eaten.”

“The leftover meat? Hard to sell, and too painful to give away for free. So I fed it to my dogs. Several of them ate themselves to death. When they died, I bought new ones, and used the carcasses to make dog stew. Strange, isn’t it? Watching my dogs overeat and die brought me immense satisfaction.”

As he spoke, a sickly pleasure flickered across his face.

One of the imperial commanders, known for his love of dogs, was so enraged that he shoved aside his guards and rolled up his sleeves, ready to land a punch.

Xu Yanmiao gasped: [Why reward him?! What if he enjoys being beaten?]

The commander’s raised fist froze mid-air—so abruptly that he nearly dislocated his shoulder. Luckily, from Xu Yanmiao’s angle, he didn’t see the sudden hesitation.

[Wait, why did he stop after holding his arm up for so long?]

The commander wanted to curse.

Why did I stop? Because if I hit this bastard and he enjoys it, I’ll puke up my breakfast!

So instead, he turned his gaze toward the emperor, pleading: Your Majesty, please intervene!

The old emperor shot him a glare. “Stand aside. If you kill him with your fists, how will I skin him?”

At those words, several officials collapsed into their seats.

Only the commander let out a hearty laugh, lowering his arm. “Your Majesty is right. I’m looking forward to the skinning!”

And with that, he spat directly onto Su Ziguang’s face. “Pah! Animal!”

Su Ziguang was in a daze, making no effort to dodge. He simply knelt there, shoulders slumped.

The old emperor’s knife spun against Su Ziguang’s chest, piercing his flesh.

At that motion, sweat broke out on the brows of many in attendance.

Is he really going to skin him right here in the hall?!

Xu Yanmiao: [Come to think of it, the prefect of that region was a good official. Why didn’t he report Su Ziguang’s crimes to the court?]

[He did! But someone altered the report?!]

The knife paused.

[Wait, it was Grand Chamberlain Jia Cao?]

[This… Even if the Jinyiwei found evidence, the emperor might still protect him, right?]

[The fact that Jia Cao has served at his side for fourteen years means the emperor trusts him immensely—wait! He’s the emperor’s adopted son?!]

Cao’er?

The emperor’s pupils contracted violently. Instinctively, his mind recalled a familiar figure—Jia Cao, plump and smiling shyly, his speech always tinged with the accent of his hometown, despite years in office.

How could this be?!

Almost instinctively, the emperor thought: Could there be some misunderstanding?

[Oh, no tragic backstory. He just helped Su Ziguang because the man was once under his command.]

[Since he was great at calligraphy and could mimic handwriting perfectly, he rewrote the report, removing the accusation and leaving only a flood damage report. The prefect of Yangzhou waited and waited for a response from the court. When none came, he assumed the court was protecting Su Ziguang and had no choice but to swallow his anger.]

Prime Minister Dou—among the closest officials to the emperor—watched as, after a moment of silence, the emperor slowly closed his eyes.

What they didn’t see, and only the Heavenly Emperor himself could feel, was the burning heat surging through his body. His heart pounded violently, so fiercely it felt as if it would burst out of his chest.

One moment, he recalled his young adopted son clutching a copper coin he had given him, crouched beside an old candied hawthorn seller, watching as six hawthorn fruits were skewered into a string.

The next, he remembered his days of wandering, when he had personally witnessed flood survivors, still bearing tear stains, numbly scrabbling through the mud for stranded fish and shrimp—either to eat, or to exchange for grain.

Xu Yanmiao’s worried voice came through:

[If it’s impossible to treat everyone equally… wouldn’t that greatly weaken the deterrent effect?]

The evening mist had yet to disperse, and the distant cries of birds gradually faded away. The scent of blood, after the blade pierced through flesh, was overwhelmingly strong. In his memory, the little fish and shrimp leaping in the muddy waters were so resilient, their colors so vivid.

The Emperor of Tiantong opened his eyes and looked at Su Ziguang, his tone so calm that he asked only one question:

“Who helped you cover up this major incident?”

Su Ziguang was stunned—so much so that he could barely hear his own heartbeat. His eyes were fixed in a daze on the booklet in the emperor’s hand.

Was His Majesty asking this because the Jinyiwei had already uncovered the truth and was testing whether he would still struggle in vain? Or had they failed to find out, and His Majesty was trying to trick the answer out of him?

Or… did His Majesty already know it was his adopted son and was now openly asking, while actually hinting at him to clear Grand Secretariat Minister Jia from suspicion?

As his thoughts raced, the emperor’s voice rang out again, cold and devoid of emotion:

“Do you think I know or not?”

Without hesitation, Su Ziguang forcefully knocked his forehead to the ground with a loud “thud”:

“It was Jia Cao! It was His Majesty’s adopted son, Grand Secretariat Minister Jia!”

The non-capital officials erupted in an uproar.

The capital officials, realizing a beat late, quickly joined in.

Only three people remained silent.

One was Xu Yanmiao.

Another was Prime Minister Dou.

And the last was the suddenly silent Emperor of Tiantong.

The room was steeped in the scent of food—

The fresh, metallic tang of sheep’s blood,

The thick, oppressive air mixed with heavy breathing.

The Emperor of Tiantong’s voice was as calm as still water:

“Mao Zheng.”

The Jinyiwei Commander clasped his hands in salute. “Your subject is here.”

“Send men to arrest Grand Secretariat Minister Jia Cao. Strip him of his official hat, revoke his seal of office…”

“As you command.”

“And…”

The Emperor of Tiantong’s expression was as cold as ice, showing no regard for the deep bond he once had with his adopted son.

“Execute him. Immediately.”

Even the Jinyiwei Commander’s thoughts briefly halted.

But he quickly regained his composure. “Understood!”

Then, he turned and left the room.

Just before stepping out the door, he heard one final order:

“Bring his corpse back here.”

The Jinyiwei Commander’s pulse quickened.

Jia Cao’s residence was far away in the capital, but the Jinyiwei, riding at full speed, soon arrived.

A squad of Jinyiwei stormed into Jia’s manor in broad daylight.

First came a loud crash, as if someone had been knocked over—or perhaps beaten. A series of objects clattered to the floor.

Inside the towering courtyard walls, angry shouts erupted, wave after wave, making it impossible to tell what exactly was happening.

But after a single gunshot rang out—”Bang!”—everything fell silent.

By the time Jia Cao’s head and corpse were laid before the emperor, it was already the early hours of the next morning.

The severed head stood out starkly, the lifeless eyes wide open—

As if even in death, the man refused to believe that his beloved adoptive father would suddenly turn on him.

The Deputy Commander of the Central Army took a deep breath, clenching his buttocks. “It’s over…”

The Deputy Commander of the Front Army was trembling with fear. “Yeah… it’s over. His Majesty even killed his adopted son, this…”

The Deputy Commander of the Central Army: “No, I mean, I think I need to… relieve myself.”

The Deputy Commander of the Front Army: “…”

He gritted his teeth in frustration. “Hold it in! Or His Majesty might kill you too!”

The Deputy Commander of the Central Army had tears welling up in his tiger-like eyes but could only stare at the emperor’s silhouette, nearly hidden in the darkness, silently praying for everything to be over soon.

At that moment, the emperor suddenly turned around.

Everyone could see—his eyes were blood-red.

Terrifyingly red.

Almost at the same time, with a loud crack, a skinning knife was plunged heavily into the table.

The Emperor of Tiantong picked up a list from the table, baring his teeth in a grin.

“Come—”

“Let’s continue.”

Every official present, whether still in service or retired, immediately began trembling.

His Majesty had already executed his own adopted son.

If more crimes were uncovered… was there anyone he wouldn’t dare to kill? Anyone he wouldn’t kill?

The list crumpled slightly in his grip.

His voice was filled with murderous intent: “Next.”

“Di Wu’ang.”

---

Many days later, in distant Yangzhou, several squads of soldiers marched into the domain of the local tyrant, the Su family.

And so, the event that would shake Yangzhou to its core—the extermination of an entire clan—began.

It wasn’t just the Su family. The wealthy and powerful Zhao, Ding, and Zhang families also found soldiers storming into their mansions.

Bowls of rice were overturned from dining tables, boots trampled grains flat into the floor, greasy braised pork collapsed in heaps, and dark-red broth spilled everywhere.

Those who resisted were executed on the spot.

Countless ruffians, beggars, commoners, noble ladies, young masters, and the well-informed shop assistants of various establishments gathered nearby, watching the purge unfold.

Shoulder to shoulder, they spoke in the Hanzhong dialect, their voices excited and lively.

They had never expected these tyrannical families to fall one day.

Their eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

Their voices brimmed with joy.

---

The imperial chefs prepare meals using utensils provided by the Bureau of Palace Affairs. The meal consists of nine dishes, served in nine trays, each containing different delicacies. These are placed before the emperor, a custom referred to as “viewing the meal.”

According to accounts from the capital, when the two armies set out or held banquets, they frequently consumed poultry, especially young geese. Each goose cost between two to three thousand coins.

During banquets, geese were procured according to the number of guests. The geese were scalded, plucked, and had their innards removed before being stuffed with minced meat and glutinous rice, seasoned with five spices.

A whole lamb was also prepared in the same way, its entrails removed. The stuffed goose was sewn inside the lamb, which was then roasted.

Once the lamb was cooked, it was discarded, and the goose was eaten whole.

This dish was known as “Whole Lamb Mo Hu”.

— From “Lu’s Miscellaneous Notes”

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